OSWALD. Well, then, the Lost Sheep Found.
MRS. ALVING. Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so much
opposed to his becoming a painter.
MANDERS. To our human eyes many a step seems dubious, which afterwards
proves--[Wrings his hand.] But first of all, welcome, welcome home! Do
not think, my dear Oswald--I suppose I may call you by your Christian
name?
OSWALD. What else should you call me?
MANDERS. Very good. What I wanted to say was this, my dear Oswald you
must not think that I utterly condemn the artist's calling. I have no
doubt there are many who can keep their inner self unharmed in that
profession, as in any other.
OSWALD. Let us hope so.
MRS. ALVING. [Beaming with delight.] I know one who has kept both his
inner and his outer self unharmed. Just look at him, Mr. Manders.
OSWALD. [Moves restlessly about the room.] Yes, yes, my dear mother;
let's say no more about it.
MANDERS. Why, certainly--that is undeniable. And you have begun to make
a name for yourself already. The newspapers have often spoken of you,
most favourably. Just lately, by-the-bye, I fancy I haven't seen your
name quite so often.
OSWALD. [Up in the conservatory.] I haven't been able to paint so much
lately.
MRS. ALVING. Even a painter needs a little rest now and then.
MANDERS. No doubt, no doubt. And meanwhile he can be preparing himself
and mustering his forces for some great work.
OSWALD. Yes.--Mother, will dinner soon be ready?
MRS. ALVING. In less than half an hour. He has a capital appetite, thank
God.
MANDERS. And a taste for tobacco, too.